


Easy Rider

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: First Time, Leather Kink, M/M, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 09:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor develops a little bit of an obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Rider

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a birthday fic for deinonychus_1, for the prompt 'Connor/Becker, leather'.

“Earth to Connor! _Earth to Connor!_ ”  
  
Connor jerked out of his reverie to find Abby standing in front of him, looking far too amused about something.  
  
“I take it you had a good evening, then?” she asked.  
  
Powerless to stop the broad smile spreading over his face, Connor nodded. It _had_ been a good evening. He and Becker had gone out for a drink together – it was only their second date (if, as two manly – okay, one manly and one _almost_ manly – men they were calling dating) but Connor already felt like they’d really clicked. Which had been proved when, at the end of the night, Becker had dropped him off back at his flat, and given him a goodnight kiss.  
  
Connor’s smile turned slightly dreamy as he remembered the way Becker’s lips had felt on his, and the way Becker had leaned in to him as they kissed, and…  
  
“Oi!”  
  
Abby snapped her fingers in his face, and he nearly fell off his chair.  
  
“Save the daydreaming for when you really need it, yeah?” she said. “Like one of Lester’s interminable meetings. The sappy look on your face is a little nauseating, to be honest.”  
  
With an effort, Connor pulled himself together and gave her one of his best glares – which had approximately the same effect as a fluffy bunny glaring at a velociraptor, but he was ignoring that part. “Was there something you wanted, Abby?” he asked, with as much dignity as he could muster.  
  
“Yeah, Sarah’s asking whether…”  
  
But Abby was interrupted by the door opposite them opening, admitting Becker into the operations room.  
  
“Morning, Abby. Morning, Connor.”  
  
Connor felt his jaw drop. Becker was dressed head to toe in motorcycle leathers, the helmet dangling from one hand proving they weren’t just for show. He looked, to put it bluntly, smoking hot.  
  
“Morning, Becker,” Abby said, and Connor quickly followed up, wishing Becker a good morning in a voice that absolutely did _not_ squeak.  
  
But Becker had obviously spotted Connor’s non-too-subtle gaping, because he smiled slyly, made a show of looking down at himself, and then wandered over to them.  
  
“Car’s gone in for a service today, so I had to drag the old bike out of the garage,” he explained, not taking his eyes off Connor the whole time.  
  
“You never said you rode a motorbike,” Connor blurted, and then felt himself flush.  
  
“I’m sure it would have come up, eventually,” Becker replied, his voice heavy with innuendo. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and get out of these leathers.”  
  
 _Can I help you with that?_ By some miracle, Connor managed to prevent the words from coming out of his mouth. But Abby’s smile was far too knowing, and he was sure that Becker had winked at him as he walked away.  
  
Connor fought the urge to drop his head into his hands. He was doomed.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Matters did not improve as the week wore on. When Becker turned up the next morning wearing his leathers again, and explained that the garage had found something seriously wrong with his car, and it would take them a few days to get the parts to fix it, Connor wasn’t quite sure he believed him.  
  
His doubts only grew when Becker started making a point of stopping for a chat every morning on his way to the locker room to change into his uniform (Connor would never have thought he’d see the day where Becker in uniform was actually the _lesser_ of two evils) – a Becker with his body wrapped in supple black leather was doing nothing for Connor’s conversational skills, but Becker seemed to spend longer and longer each day hovering around the ADD console before he went off to get changed, despite the lack of intelligent speech coming out of Connor’s mouth.  
  
Connor wanted to be pissed off, he really did. He almost suspected Becker of mocking him in some way, particularly as there had been no offer of a third date since the other night. Perhaps Becker had decided that Connor was a pathetic excuse for a human being, and was flaunting himself in front of Connor to show him what he couldn’t have.  
  
Or perhaps not.  
  
“Connor, did you hear what I said?”  
  
“Huh…what?”  
  
It was day five of what Connor was now terming ‘Becker’s Evil Plan To Destroy The ARC’s Computer Systems’ (there had been one or two close calls, in which Connor had only narrowly managed to avert disaster on an epic scale, because seriously, how was he supposed to concentrate on diagnostics and upgrades after one of Becker’s morning visits?), and Connor, it appeared, hadn’t become any more successful in his attempts to actually _listen_ to Becker when he talked, instead of contemplating how great his arse looked in those leather trousers.  
  
Becker looked amused, like he knew _exactly_ what Connor was thinking about. “I said, do you want to go for a drink again tonight?”  
  
Apparently a third date was on the cards, after all.  
  
“Absolutely!” Connor said, maybe a mite too enthusiastically.  
  
But Becker merely grinned and nodded. “Straight out after work then? Maybe we can get something to eat this time too. I know a place near mine that has a pretty good menu. And I’ll drop you home after again, if you like.”  
  
“Great, brilliant!”  
  
“I’ll see you later then.” Becker was still grinning as he turned away in the direction of the locker room.  
  
“See you later!” Connor called cheerily after him.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Of course, going out with Becker straight after work meant one _tiny_ problem that Connor had somehow managed to completely overlook.  
  
The end of the day rolled around, and with no anomalies to disturb the peace, people were actually able to leave at a normal time, like normal people with normal jobs.  
  
But when 5pm became 5:15, and then 5:30, and there was still no sign of Becker, Connor began to get worried. Perhaps the other man had decided that Connor was a waste of his time after all. Although Connor would have thought that Becker might do the decent thing, and at least tell him so to his face.  
  
Eventually, he gave up waiting and made his way down to the underground car park. However, it wasn’t until he got there that he realised two things. One, Abby would most certainly have left already, taking Connor’s only other chance of a lift with her. And two, Becker _was_ still here.  
  
Connor almost jumped out of his skin as a loud mechanical roar suddenly reverberated around the subterranean space. And it was that point he remembered Becker’s motorcycle. In the next second, he wondered how he could have ever forgotten it, drooling as his had been over Becker’s biker leathers all week.  
  
He followed the noise of the dying revs across the car park, and found Becker standing next to his bike. Danny was with him.  
  
“Connor!” Becker had spotted him immediately. “There you are! Where have you been?” He sounded annoyed, but also (unless it was Connor’s imagination) relieved.  
  
“Upstairs,” Connor replied. “Waiting for you.”  
  
“Waiting for me…?” Becker looked confused. “But didn’t we say we’d meet down here?”  
  
Connor shook his head. “Nope.” Although actually, they hadn’t agreed to meet _anywhere_ , as such. Connor supposed it made as much sense to meet in the car park as it did to meet by the anomaly detector.  
  
Becker laughed. “Next time we’ll have to organise ourselves better, obviously. But it’s a good job Quinn was here and asked to look at the bike, otherwise I might have given up on you and gone home by now.”  
  
The warm feeling that had bloomed in Connor’s chest at the thought of ‘next time’ was quenched by the reminder of Danny’s presence. Like Becker, Danny was dressed in his biker leathers, his own motorbike parked a little way off. The pair of them looked like they could have stepped off the pages of some motorcycling magazine, and they’d obviously been bonding over their shared love of the machines.  
  
Connor suddenly felt like a bit of an outsider.  
  
But then Becker said, “Anyway, Quinn, now that Connor’s here, we’d better be on our way. I can’t stand around gabbing with you all night,” and just like that, some of the warm feeling was back.  
  
Danny rolled his eyes, gave Connor a wink, and then raised a hand in farewell. “See you two tomorrow, then. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”  
  
“Well, that doesn’t put too many restrictions on us, does it?” Becker replied. “Don’t kill yourself on that thing, Quinn.”  
  
“A pro like me? Never happen,” Danny proclaimed, as he reached his bike. A moment or two later, there was another engine roar, and Danny shot past them on his way to the exit.  
  
Connor stared after him for a few seconds, and then turned to find Becker watching him expectantly.  
  
“What?”  
  
Becker grinned, and jerked his head towards his own bike, at the same time holding out a helmet towards Connor.  
  
And there was the tiny problem that Connor had overlooked. He was going to have to ride a motorbike, something he’d never done before. And more than that, he was going to have to ride it behind Becker, plastered up again Becker’s back with his arms around Becker’s waist.  
  
It was like all his fantasies _and_ nightmares were coming true at once.  
  
“It’s perfectly safe, Connor,” Becker told him. “I promise I won’t go too fast.” But the twinkle in his eye betrayed that he was perfectly aware that that wasn’t what was making Connor hesitate. “You might even enjoy yourself,” he added, smirking.  
  
Sighing inwardly, Connor reached out and took the helmet. There was really nothing else for it. It felt slightly constrictive as he pushed it down on to his head, and it only took a few seconds before he realised that extra weight was probably going to make his neck ache after a very short time.  
  
Becker had donned his own helmet, and as Connor watched he swung one leg smoothly over the bike and settled down astride it. “Come on, climb on behind me,” he said, beckoning to Connor, his voice muffled somewhat by the helmet covering Connor’s ears.  
  
Connor complied, clambering on to the bike much less gracefully than Becker had done. Then he took a deep breath and put his arms loosely around Becker’s waist.  
  
“You’re going to have to hold on a bit tighter than that,” Becker told him, sounding amused.  
  
Connor tightened his grip, feeling smooth leather under his fingers. This close, he could smell it too, a rich, dark smell that combined with the scent of motor oil, and something else that he suspected might be Becker himself.  
  
“Okay, you ready?” Becker asked.  
  
“Not really,” Connor replied, but the answer was lost in the noise of the motorcycle’s engines as Becker started her up again. Involuntarily, his grip on Becker tightened even more as he managed to lift his feet from the floor just as the bike started moving.  
  
For a moment he was terrified, but then, as the bike shot out of the car park into the evening air, a wave of exhilaration overtook him. This was amazing!  
  
But still, he thought to himself, as he clutched at the leather under his fingertips and felt the warmth of Becker’s body against his, it wouldn’t hurt to hold on a _little_ bit tighter…  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Connor climbed off the bike, and then staggered a little as his thigh muscles protested at the grip they’d been forced to maintain so he didn’t slide around too much every time they’d gone round a corner. Grimacing, he pulled off the helmet, and tried not to think too much about the fact that he probably had horrendous helmet-hair.  
  
It was about then that he realised they weren’t at his flat.  
  
“This isn’t my flat,” he pointed out to Becker.  
  
“No, it’s mine,” Becker replied. He’d taken off his own helmet too. “I thought you might want to come up for a coffee or something.”  
  
Connor narrowed his eyes. Becker’s body language and tone of voice appeared casual, but there was something in his expression that betrayed a certain amount of nervousness.  
  
Somehow, that dispelled some of Connor’s own worries. They’d had a great evening again, the menu at the pub Becker had suggested having turned out to have been a bit more than ‘pretty good’, and the conversation between them even better. Still, he hadn’t been able to prevent the return once or twice of his doubts about why Becker would want him when he could have had practically anyone else.  
  
But maybe Becker wasn’t quite the cool customer everyone seemed to think he was. Even if he did still look like coolness personified, standing next to his bike in his leathers.  
  
“I’d like that,” Connor said, proud that his own voice sounded as calm as Becker’s.  
  
“Great.” Did Becker look relieved? “Let me just put the bike away, and I’ll meet you at the front door.”  
  
Connor watched as Becker wheeled his motorcycle down the passageway at the side of the building, and disappeared through a tall wrought-iron gate. Then he shook himself slightly, and hurried up the steps to the front door.  
  
Becker reappeared a couple of moments later, coming up the steps to stand in front of Connor. However, he made no immediate move to unlock the front door.  
  
“Um, Becker?” Connor said, after a few seconds of silence. “You do live here, right. We’re not about to engage in an act of breaking and entering, are we?”  
  
Becker chuckled. “No,” he replied. “But we started a tradition last time around that I’d quite like to continue.”  
  
 _Oh, what’s that?_ Connor was about to say, but he couldn’t, because Becker was kissing him.  
  
This kiss was a little more heated than the first, rather chaste, affair after their last date had been. And while Connor was all for this kind of tradition, he was feeling a little bit…exposed.  
  
“I can feel the curtains twitching from here,” he joked, when they finally broke apart.  
  
Becker chuckled again. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Let’s go inside and stop giving my neighbours a show, hmmm?”  
  
Connor nodded, and then followed Becker inside once he had unlocked the door, and up the stairs to the first floor flat, looking around at the residence that he was fairly sure no one else on the team had got to see.  
  
It wasn’t the kind of place he’d imagined Becker living, truth be told. The soldier was always so immaculately turned out that Connor had envisaged him living in a similarly immaculate flat, all clean lines and modern furniture (and damn Abby for making him watching all those property programmes – he was starting to sound like an estate agent).  
  
But Becker’s flat was in a converted Victorian semi, and was cosy and sort of homely, with plenty of original features to add character (Connor’s inner estate agent resisted the urge to bang its head against the nearest wall). It was nice, and oddly, it still suited Becker.  
  
Busy looking around, Connor didn’t realise Becker had stopped until he nearly walked into him. He caught himself just in time, but they still ended up standing pretty much chest to chest.  
  
“Hi,” he said, giving a ridiculous little wave.  
  
“Hello,” Becker replied. Then his features slid into a smirk. He suddenly looked a _lot_ more confident than he had outside. “So, Connor,” he continued, “I’ve noticed you watching me a lot this week.”  
  
“Oh, really?” Connor said, aiming for nonchalant and missing it by a country mile.  
  
“Yes, really,” Becker replied, his voice low and husky. “And I think you liked what you saw.”  
  
Suddenly there didn’t seem much point in hiding it. “I think you looked really hot,” Connor said bluntly. “I think you _look_ really hot.”  
  
“Got a thing for leather, huh?” Becker said, his smirk widening. Then he leaned forward and kissed Connor again.  
  
Becker moaned into Becker’s mouth as his hands came to rest on Becker’s leather-clad hips. He could feel himself being pushed gently backwards until his back came to rest against the wall. The smell of leather and Becker was in his nostrils again, and he drank it in eagerly.  
  
“This isn’t moving too fast for you, is it?” Becker murmured against his lips.  
  
“Definitely not,” Connor replied. “Anyway, it would be a bit hypocritical of me to say it was when I’ve been resisting the urge to throw myself at your feet and yell ‘take me now!’ all week.” Then he realised what he’d just said, and felt himself blush fiercely.  
  
It was true though. Becker had looked so sinfully good all week that there had been one or two occasions when Connor had thought he was going to slope off to the loos and take care of himself. He hadn’t, ultimately, but it had been a near thing.  
  
Oddly though, now that he had Becker right here in all his leather-wrapped glory, Connor wanted nothing more than to peel all that leather _off_ him and get to the Becker underneath.  
  
Or perhaps it wasn’t all that odd, after all.  
  
Doing his best to ignore the smirk that had reappeared as a result of his lack of brain-to-mouth filter, Connor gave Becker a little shove. “I would prefer it if we could do this somewhere a little more…horizontal, though,” he said. “After all, I haven’t seen your bedroom yet.”  
  
“Well then, I’d better remedy that omission right now,” Becker said. He turned away, leading the way to the bedroom, and then pounced on Connor again the moment they were through the door.  
  
This time, though, his hands immediately went to Connor’s clothing, tugging and pulling pointedly. Connor quickly got with the programme, and started attacking the zippers and fastenings on Becker’s leathers, fulfilling his desire to peel Becker out of them.  
  
Under the leathers, however, he discovered that Becker was wearing a second layer of clothes. “How do you not boil to death in this lot?” he asked incredulously.  
  
Becker gave him a slightly sheepish smile. “Well, they _aren’t_ the most comfortable things to wear when you’re not on the bike,” he confessed. “But you seemed to appreciate them, so I didn’t mind keeping them on for a bit longer than usual.” He let go of Connor for a moment to bend down and pull off the biker boots he was still wearing, kicking them into a corner. Connor took the opportunity to slide his hands on to the waistband of Becker trousers and try to yank them down.  
  
Becker squawked and nearly overbalanced. Then he gave Connor a mock-glare. “Why don’t you let me?” he said, and stripped off the trousers quickly.  
  
It took a few more minutes to get them both completely naked, and then Becker smiled slyly and said, “I believe you mentioned something about being horizontal?”  
  
It was Connor’s turn to squawk as, with no warning, Becker pushed him backwards on to the bed. But he couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed for more than a couple of seconds, as Becker immediately climbed on to the bed after him and draped himself over Connor’s body, kissing him thoroughly.  
  
Connor arched upwards, revelling in the feel of Becker’s skin against his own. This was better than the leathers, better than the uniform, better than _everything_.  
  
He made a noise of protest as Becker broke the kiss and slid away down his body. He wanted to touch, so why was Becker moving away? Then he made a noise very much _not_ of protest as Becker’s mouth closed around his cock, sucking and licking at the hard flesh until Connor almost wanted to tell him to stop, otherwise the evening was going to be over quicker than either of them wanted.  
  
But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it – it felt too amazing.  
  
Then he felt Becker’s hand slide between his legs and under his body, a finger nudging at his entrance gently enough to be a question.  
  
Connor nodded his head emphatically, and then, worried that Becker might not have noticed, occupied as he was, gasped out, “Becker…yes…”  
  
Becker’s mouth slid off him with a small pop (probably just in time, Connor admitted to himself, even though he was still a little disappointed) so he could grin at Connor. “Hoped you’d say that,” he said, sounding a bit hoarse.  
  
He prepared Connor carefully and thoroughly, but also as quickly as they could both stand (and also with lube that he’d apparently plucked from thin air, Connor couldn’t help but notice – a particularly useful talent), and then as Connor pulled his legs out of the way, lined himself up and pushed slowly in.  
  
They both hissed at the sensation. “Fucking hell, Connor,” Becker ground out. “Not going to last long.”  
  
Connor couldn’t resist a bit of a smug smile at that. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all.  
  
Then Becker proceeded to drive any thoughts, smug or otherwise, out of his head as he started to move again, filling and stretching Connor’s body repeatedly. Connor moaned along with every thrust until he just _had_ to reach down for his own cock, stroking himself not-quite-in-time with Becker.  
  
He was on the edge already, and it didn’t take long before he tipped over it, shuddering through his orgasm as Becker came only a few seconds later with a groan of Connor’s name.  
  
It took Connor a moment or two to realise that Becker was draped over him again, this time breathing hard in Connor’s ear. He was rather heavy, and one of Connor’s legs was still splayed out at an uncomfortable angle. But there was no way Connor was going to ask him to move.  
  
They panted together for a little while longer, until Becker moved without being asked, his cock slipping from Connor’s body as he shifted to the side a bit.  
  
“So,” he asked, “what are the chances of getting you to ride my bike again?”  
  
“Oh, pretty good,” Connor replied. “Particularly if you carry on wearing the leathers.”  
  
“That’s what I thought,” Becker said, smirking. “And what are the chances of getting you to ride _me_ again?”  
  
Connor grinned, although he fully intended to point out the lameness of that joke later. “Almost definite, I’d say.” Then he pasted a thoughtful expression on his face. “Although what are the chances of you wearing the leathers for that too?”


End file.
